


The Softest Touch

by RaineNoble



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:51:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaineNoble/pseuds/RaineNoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your person of preference playing Debussy on the piano for you.</p>
<p>This was written with Tom Hiddleston and Benedict Cumberbatch in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Softest Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Kaitlyn W.

 

You’re curled up on your bed with your favourite book when you hear it: the soft tones of Debussy. The gentle melody touches your ears, and you look up, mind brought slowly and pleasantly back from the book’s fantasy world and into reality. You smile. Reality isn’t so bad.

You close your book with a gentle thud and place it on the nightstand before swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rising to your feet. You yawn and stretch like a cat roused from its nap, and you make your way into the sitting room with silent, careful steps. You don’t want to ruin the music.

You reach the doorway just as he’s finishing the song. You watch him thumb through the book of sheet music, engrossed by the graceful movement of his hands across the pages.

“Come sit,” he says quietly, still leafing through the book.

You smile. “I didn’t think you’d notice I was here.”

He looks up from the book of sheet music and sets it on the stand, having finally decided on a song. He turns slightly, angling his body towards you, his hands on his knees. His pale eyes mirror the calmness of yours. “I could use someone to help me turn the pages.”

You smile more as you walk over to sit next to him on the piano bench. He scoots over slightly to make room.

“I had no idea you could play,” you say, eyes moving across the score, taking in the complex arrangement of musical notes.

He just smiles and places his hands on the keyboard.

Time seems to slow to a crawl as soon as the first vibrant note fills the small room. You watch, mesmerised by his long-fingered hands as they glide across the rich black and sterling white keys, pressing in on them with a powerful, yet soft touch. The melody of Clair de Lune washes over you, filling you with exuberant joy, but also with nostalgia. Your heart speeds up as your breathing slows. This moment is far better than any fantasy world: _purely magical_.

The music stops.

“Darling, you’re supposed to turn the page…are you alright?” He’s looking at you now. He reaches over to brush a tear from your cheek.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you say, bringing your hand up to the inner corner of your eye. You stare at the salty drop on your finger. The last rays of daylight slip through the window, casting a warm, reddish glow on the single drop. You hadn’t realised you were crying.

“Are you certain?” he asks, voice full of concern.

“Yeah. Definitely.” You wipe the teardrop on the hem of your shirt and reach over to turn the page.

You look at him expectantly.

He smiles. “Shall we continue?”

 


End file.
